


A Queen's Lament

by AbigailPickardWrites



Series: Here's to the Villains [2]
Category: Snow White - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Disney, Fairy Tale Parody, Fairy Tale Retellings, Redemption, Short Story, Snow White Elements, Snow White- Freeform, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27439699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbigailPickardWrites/pseuds/AbigailPickardWrites
Summary: The story of the Evil Queen (Snow White), humanized and explained.THIS IS NOT A HAPPY STORY
Series: Here's to the Villains [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004667





	A Queen's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Parental trauma, dysfunctional families, major character death, tragic romance, murder, dystopia, insecurities, execution, tyrannical dictators

"Thomas? Thomas?" Lucile's voice echoed throughout the hall of the grimy and crumbling throne room.

Prince Thomas raised his head from his hands. "Yes, sister?"

With troubled eyes, Lucile handed her brother the item she had found, which they read together.

November 14

To My Dearest Thomas,

I write to you with deep regret. I have to make a stand for what truly happened to me, for I will soon flee the kingdom. As I'm sure you've heard, Snow White has been telling tales of how I forced her to work, and sent the huntsman to kill her. I assume you have knowledge that I tried to kill her three times on my own, succeeded, was foiled, and then forced to dance in flaming shoes until my death. Well, this letter is clear proof otherwise. Thomas, you cannot fathom the lengths I went through to obtain a quill, ink, and parchment. Now, I'm sure your questions are endless. I will do my best to answer them, because you cannot send a letter back to me. I intend to tell you the whole and complete story right here and now.

It all started when my husband, Louis, died. Louis was a magnificent man, as you know, and Snow and I got along great. That is until, he died. Then, Snow changed. I am willing to blame it upon her father's death, but she became determined to cause trouble wherever she went, and admitted to it, as well. She controlled the animals by force, making them cause harm to their caretakers, she deceived young men into coming to the palace, and then killing them with miscellaneous supplies she got from the maid's cupboards, and she did all she could to make my life miserable. I put up with it for a while, but eventually, nothing worked to keep her from causing harm. I made her a servant of the palace, just to punish her poor behavior. Maybe it was too harsh, but mothers need to punish their children, it's just their role. I was lost beyond belief and had no other ideas. The child became less rough around the edges, and even became a little nice to the servants, but wicked as ever to me. One day, a man came into the palace to try to win her over as no man had before. He had no idea that all she wanted was a throne of her own, and he happened to be able to provide that. She appeared innocent, but I wasn't fooled. I tried to warn the male as he left the palace, but Snow became angry when she discovered my intentions. She fled the palace in search of the Prince, and so I sent my huntsman to find her. I ordered him to see if she would have a change of heart, but she didn't, even having the nerve to harm him. I wanted to let her save face, truly I did, but I was out of options. Nothing worked. I was simply and overused, and overtired mother.

On a side note, you may wonder how I will justify my magic mirror. The "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" It is true, but it wasn't because I was vain! Truthfully, Thomas, I have always had issues with my self-image. Too fat, too much acne, too plain, to much, too little, too revealing, and not revealing enough. Never have I felt beautiful. My mirror was the only thing that kept me sane, that kept me alive. No matter how I looked in that mirror, the magic always made me feel pretty. What's so wrong about that? Is there wrong in worrying about your appearance? Is it a sin to try to fix yourself, to make yourself more attractive? Tell me Thomas, does God punish women with insecurities? I am not vain, I am human.

Now that was made clear, I will go back to the story. I apologize for getting flustered, Thomas.

When I heard word of Snow White's whereabouts, a small dwarfs cottage in a meadow, I knew that I had to act. Snow may have been a spoiled brat sometimes, but she knew better than to be cold to an elderly woman, and that was how I was going to teach her a lesson. So first I enchanted a lace for a corset and disguised myself. I sold it to her and she willingly bought it, saying she didn't need it, that I needed it more than she did. An insult to my weight, Thomas! She stooped low enough to disrespect an elderly woman, a fellow female, whom she didn't even know! In any event, she took it in the end. See, I had enchanted it to tighten and tighten, but I suppose that in my anger it affected the spell. The lace that she put in her corset nearly strangled her. I was watching nearby and saw all that came to be. I was about to free her when the dwarfs came back from the mines and cut the lace. Relieved, I went back to the castle. Sure, I tried, but Snow was still the same as ever. What would it take to make her a good person once again? I decided to try again, after all, I missed the person she used to be. I designed a poisoned, jewel encrusted comb design to make her unconscious. I figured that was plenty of punishment. So, I sold her the comb and watched from afar. Everything worked perfectly: she fainted, the dwarfs came home, the dwarfs rescued her, and she was fine. I thought surely she would think that after something like that she should be kinder. But no, she just got worse. Soon, she began abusing those poor dwarfs. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. I loved Snow, no, that's inaccurate. I love Snow, present tense. But I had to do something, for she only got worse each day. So I created a poison apple, designed to make her sleep until she was kissed by her true love. That would imply that she would have to have a true love: something only someone with some goodness in their heart can have. I assumed that if she could have true love, she would revoke her evil ways. So I made the apple and she ate it, falling to to floor as if she were dead. The dwarfs came home, horrified. I felt terrible, doing that to them, because somewhere deep down they too hoped that she would be kind to them someday. I came out of hiding and explained all that had occurred, and they forgave me, they understood. She was placed in a casket, and they all mourned until a local prince passed by. He was the same prince that I had tried to warn, and he fell down, sobbing, believing her dead. Every inch of my heart yearned to wake her and end the sorrow, but I knew that would just bring about more pain. The prince kissed her lips gently and she awoke. Hastily, the dwarfs were able to hide me as I knelt behind them. She seemed happy, oddly enough, and even looked like a good person. As he carried her away on his horse, I happily looked after them, hope finally setting in.

As you can imagine, Thomas, the hope did not last. She was prompt in acting good and gracious in front of the people, but she sent her assassins after me, on strict orders not to kill, however. They dragged me to the palace and threw me in the dungeon in the same cell as Grumpy, my favorite dwarf of all. He appeared gruff, but he was a softie at heart. The other dwarfs were in nearby cells, all chained the wall like us. The guards informed me of my fate, to dance to death in red hot shoes, stoked in the fire by Snow White herself. The dwarfs were going to be executed later at the chopping block, all very quiet and secretive. She couldn't let the people know who she was, now could she?

The day of my execution was November second, oddly enough. It's ironic, since that is your birthday. Well, I arrived in the throne room. There's no way to describe my emotions, Thomas. Chained and bound afraid, by myself, I stood before the throne. On this grand throne of silver, dressed in a host of splendid things, Snow White, my daughter looked down at me. Her smooth and melodic voice echoed in the long hallway, lit by torches that lined the walls. Her shadow flickered in the light, but it was large and cast over me anyway. Each sound seemed to be incredible. A man could have whispered, as quiet as one can speak, and it would be heard as a scream. We were alone as the last guard left. I had no magic left within me, it was just myself and Snow White. She said that she wanted my death to be between us, and that she wanted to do it herself. This shouldn't surprise you, though, Thomas.

So she left me to fetch the weapon of my undoing. I sat there, on the cold marble flooring of Snow's new palace in chains and manacles. Weights so heavy an ox couldn't lift them kept me where I was. Snow wanted to build suspense, I'm sure. She wanted me alone in here, alone with my thoughts, torturing me, making me wonder what was to become of my life. And it worked. I felt everything of my life pulling me back. People, things, places, hobbies, and you. Yes, Thomas, you. In what I expected to be my final moments, your face came to mind. The way your caramel hair swept to the left, your strong jawline and your firm gray eyes. Your fair face and pink lips that I so badly wanted to brush with mine. Yes, Thomas. You read that right. I love you, I really do. I want to be with you so terribly, but I can't. I miss you, and I know that you don't feel the same way, but ever since Louis died, you were the only one to be there for me. And in that moment, I finally admitted to myself that I was hopelessly, madly, and endlessly in love with you, Thomas Jones Arnold the Third.

But the story, apologies, my dear Thomas. Snow returned with the shoes. They were black, I'm sure, but it was impossible to tell. They were glowing red so brightly that one would think they were as hot as anything can be. She set them down with a metal tool that began to melt from being in direct contact. She looked at me maliciously and smiled. I remember her exact words, "I got you some new shoes, dear mother. Try them on, won't you?" She had the nerve to call me her mother as she prepared to destroy me.

I didn't move, as if the first motion in that room would shatter our infinitely delicate balance. She scowled and seized my leg. I could feel the heat as my foot approached the shoe. It hurt just to be a foot away. Just as my toe brushed the stone of the first of two shoes, a knock pounded on the great wooden doors and the masculine voice of Snow White's husband came into the chamber. He was speaking about some sort of banquet for extra celebration of their wedding. She ran to the door and left the hall, leaving me, once again, with thoughts of you.

It wasn't long before Grumpy entered the hall, smashing through one of the deep red stained glass windows as he entered the room. He ran to me, saying that there wasn't much time. An outside source had given him a potion from my castle that can change someone's appearance permanently. He told me that I had magic, I was the kingdom's best chance against Snow White, and that I was more valuable than he. He took my potion without letting me get a word in, morphing quickly to look like me. He put the binding on himself and sat where I was. "Run!" He had said. And I did.

I escaped to the country as Snow began her reign of terror. She had killed poor Grumpy, believing him to be me, and when her husband discovered that she had killed "me," he was furious. He claimed that she was a monster and that she had fooled him, that her goodness was but an act. And he was right.

You know what happened next, Thomas. You know all about how Snow went ballistic and killed her husband, Ferdinand, and I know that Ferdinand was your brother. You know how she went dark and caused pain and suffering all over the kingdom. You know how she sent her troops of enslaved men to tear everything apart, and how she forced every other king to his knees. You know better than anyone.

Now, I intend to escape even further. I am in a cave as I write, but when I finish, I will leave. I will be far on my way before you read these hastily scrawled words. I love you, Thomas. Remember that.

-Evelyn

Thomas let the letter fall from his hands. It floated down quietly, with just a rustle of paper. His gray eyes, now weathered and lined in pain met his sister's. She placed her hand on his. It was a long time before they exchanged any words, but Thomas spoke first, "She's alive... I need to find her."

"Thomas, no!" exclaimed Lucile, "If the White Guardsmen find you, they'll drag you away, to Snow White herself. She hates you more than anyone, she'll kill you!"

Thomas looked around the throne room of what was once his splendid palace. The tapestries and banners were shredded and the holes where stones had been taken away in the floors were plentiful. The walls barely stood, and there were gaps, cracks, and the stones were all coated in a dirty, wet residue. His throne had been nearly destroyed, the back was gone and it couldn't support him well. The red satin rug that lined the middle of the room that led from the doors of the great hall to the foot of his throne was torn and burned in some areas. The ceiling was completely gone, now vines hung down into the room, and starlight was all that lit it up. The doors were just hanging on their hinges, and the rest of the castle was just as bad. "What do I care if I die? Our lives are over anyway."

"No! Thomas..." Lucile shook her head as tears threatened to spill.

"I have to tell her that I love her too."

November 17

Lucille Arnold,

I write to you to inform you that my White Guardsmen found Thomas Jones Arnold III in the countryside about five days ago before he reached his destination. When I came to take down your palace, I believe that I commanded you two not to leave, that you were to remain amongst the ruins of your castle until death takes hold on you for daring to try to keep your kingdom. He will be dead by the time you read this. Take this letter as a warning: Do not defy the Queen.

-Snow White: Queen of Nevermore


End file.
